The Good, the Bad, and the Scribbled
by BlueJay026
Summary: President Business wants to do a kindness for Good Cop/Bad Cop, but his perfectionism gets out of hand.
1. Chapter 1

Good Cop drove through the streets of Bricksburg as quickly as he would allow himself. Only moments ago had President Business called him to his office. The cop wanted to arrive as soon as possible, especially since the ride over there was getting quite irritating.

_Darn, darn, darny darn!_

Due to yet another failed interrogation session, Bad Cop was in a worse mood than usual. Good Cop was having a difficult time ignoring his other half's fuming, considering the fact that _he_ was the one who should have been the most upset. But he knew better than to complain, so he soundlessly sipped from his cup of fairly priced coffee and pressed on.

Eventually, the police officer arrived at Bricksburg's most recently constructed skyscraper, the New Octan Tower. After passing through security, he stopped in the parking space reserved for his cruiser and stepped outside. Before advancing, he took a second to scan the building up and down. Though it was not nearly as tall as the original Octan Tower, its size was still impressive.

Sensing that his other side still needed to let off some steam, Good Cop braced himself and swapped his head around.

Bad Cop made no effort to hide his fury as he stormed through the building's ground floor. Everyone, people and robots alike, made sure to get out of his way. Most avoided eye-contact, though a few dared to catch a glimpse of his snarling face.

Due to his rapid speed, Bad Cop reached the elevator in record time. He jammed the button with his claw hand, imagining it was something - or rather, _someone_ - that would make a perfect chair to batter.

As if it was afraid, the elevator opened its doors immediately. Bad Cop stomped inside, and the doors shut to begin the journey to President Business' office.

The cop took the little time he had to compose himself, taking deep breaths and swiping at his glistening brow. He knew there was no way he could report to President Business in his current state, but the fire that burned intensely inside him would not be quelled so easily.

"Why can't I just take 'em to the Melting Chamber?!" he shouted.

_That wouldn't be very nice,_ Good Cop responded tentatively.

"TOO BAD!" Bad Cop snapped, kicking an imaginary chair. "I don't see what else to do! Interrogations have been getting us nowhere for the past month now!"

_True, but that's no reason to melt someone for first-degree burglary._

"Well then, maybe I should just do all the interrogating! Maybe you should stay out of it!" He booted a few more unreal chairs but, that failing to bring him any satisfaction, impulsively yanked the helmet off his head and threw it at the wall. "Everything goes fine until you arrive on the scene!"

_Why interrogations don't go the way they should isn't my fault, you know._

Bad Cop opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it when he realized his other half was right. Good Cop couldn't help what happened in the interrogation room. Ever since TAKOS Tuesday, many things had changed. No doubt most of the changes were good, but others...others were better off the way they had been before.

A hint of guilt for blaming Good Cop poked at Bad Cop's stomach, slightly cooling his flaring temper. Leaning back, he shut his eyes and focused on his breathing, releasing more and more of his anger with each exhale.

Silence lingered in the back of the cop's mind for a moment. _This is a new issue we're just going to have to adjust to. But don't worry; we'll figure something out._

The elevator stopped with a high-pitched 'ding'. Sighing, the police officer bent over and replaced the black and white helmet on his head. "We better."

Bad Cop stepped out of the lift and marched onward. It took only a few turns down some hallways before he reached the waiting room next to Business' office. He was halfway up to Velma Staplebot's desk when he noticed how hard his heart was thumping. And that wasn't the result of his previous fit of rage.

_Don't be so tense! _Good Cop cheerfully told him. _President Business promised he'd never try to throw us out the window again._

Straightening up more confidently, Bad Cop continued. When he was only a brick away from Velma's desk, he halted. The robot assistant was busy reading through some documents.

"President Business wanted to see me," he informed her.

Velma momentarily looked at him with her glowing red eyes before turning her attention back to the papers. "You may enter. President Business will arrive in fifteen seconds."

Bad Cop replied with a single nod and headed for the large red doors. Wiping his forehead once more, he pushed them open and walked inside.

The office was as quiet as could be, sending a sense of peace rushing through his insides. Out of habit, the cop took a moment to check his surroundings. The place looked almost like an exact replica of the president's office in the original Octan Tower. The collection of relics sat on their respective pillars, though a few of them were missing. An intimidating window was built into the very back wall, but the blue sky instead of starry space was the backdrop. About fifteen bricks' length in front of the window was Business' tall chair and shiny black desk, along with a large pen standing close beside them.

Bad Cop gave a start. _Wait a minute._

He paced closer to the desk, staring hard at the pen. It took a second, but he remembered that it was the same highlighter he had used to scribble on Good Cop's face. His analytical eyes wandered over to the side of the window and suddenly caught sight of a new piece of...furniture? Machinery? He couldn't tell what it was, though he knew by the large cuffs lined along the edge that it was supposed to hold something in place. The Po'lish Remover of Na'il and the Fleece-Crested Scepter of Que-Teep were right next to it.

Before he could put the pieces together, the doors behind him burst open.

"Bad Cop!"

The officer choked a gasp and whipped around, expecting the owner of that voice to be decked out in his suit of armor. To his relief, President Business wore only his gray suit and red tie.

Bad Cop released a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, I did!" Business exclaimed with a wide grin. Not in the way he would as to give false assurance or to hint at some evil scheme, but in a confident and friendly manner that set the cop more at ease. "I understand that you have been having some," he put his claw hands together, "complications with your interrogations."

Bad Cop bit his tongue. "Yes."

Business approached him. "Let me see Good Cop."

_Switch._

"Hello, President Business!" Good Cop chirped with a large, scribbled smile.

"Let me take a good look at you," Business said, putting his claw hand underneath the cop's chin. He tilted the officer's head left, right, up, and down, eyes narrowed inquisitively.

"Just as I thought," he said moments later. A smirk played across his face. "Bad Cop isn't a very good artist."

_...I don't recall being hired for my artistic ability._

Releasing his claw hand, Business passed Good Cop and strode up the red stairs leading to his desk. "I have been thinking about this for some time now, and I have come up with a solution to your problem." Sitting down, he clicked a button on his office phone. "Velma, send up the Super-Secret Search Team." He paused. "Please."

"The Super-Secret Search Team?" Good Cop questioned.

Business nodded. "I assembled them a few weeks ago, and they returned early this morning!"

Good Cop tapped his chin quizzically. "What were you looking for, sir?"

The president's eyes glinted proudly. "You'll see."

The doors were flung open again, grabbing the cop's attention. By the fedora atop his head, Good Cop recognized the man who entered to be Indiana Jones.

"Indy, welcome back!" Business greeted.

Indiana Jones nodded in reply. "President Business."

Following the famed explorer was a group of four people, dressed in dusty clothes, hats, and satchels. They held an enormous red-capped pen over their heads. Behind them was another quartet that carried a white-capped pen.

Good Cop took a few steps back as they filed inside the office, cold nervousness creeping up his spine. "Uh..."

_Switch._

Bad Cop planted his feet firmly before the steps, trying to ignore the fact that he too was alarmed.

"Stand them next to the black one over here," Business directed, pointing to the side of his desk.

When they had done so, Business set his gaze back on Bad Cop. "Isn't the Super-Secret Search Team great? They've been diligently searching for these things for three weeks!"

"What for, sir?" Bad Cop inquired, though he had a good idea what the answer was.

Business made a dramatic gesture with his claw hands. "Now that I have the Highlight of Black, the Shar'pie of Red, and the Shar'pie of White, I can redraw Good Cop's face! The way it's supposed to be!"

A feeling identical to the dread of being tossed into the Infinite Abyss of Nothingness settled in Bad Cop's stomach. "Please don't."

All eyes in the room were on him in an instant.

"Please don't?" Business repeated, eyes wide.

"You're kidding me, right?" one woman asked, placing her hands on her utility belt. "You're not serious."

"Dude, we spent three weeks looking for these things!" cried a guy with a pickaxe. "Don't tell us we did all that for nothing!"

"I'm sure I can figure out how to make Good Cop's scribbled face work," Bad Cop continued, ignoring their comments. "I just need more time."

Business frowned. "Oh yeah, that's promising." He retrieved a remote from a drawer inside his desk. "I'm sure if we watched your last interrogation session, we'd see how well that's working out for you."

Before Bad Cop could object, President Business aimed the remote at the large television screen on the wall. At the push of a button, it powered up.

"Show me the most recent footage of Interrogation Room 7 at the Bricksburg Police Station!" he ordered.

"Sir, I really don't think that's necessary," Bad Cop stated, subtle panic in his voice.

Nevertheless, the events from earlier that morning were displayed on the television for everyone in the room to see. The video was divided into four quadrants on the screen, showing different angles of the interrogation process.

The audience watched as Bad Cop flipped around, kicking and throwing chairs about. The criminal visibly flinched when Bad Cop slammed a chair on top of the table. Good Cop then swiveled in, pushed the chair aside, and politely asked the man to tell him who assisted him when he committed his crime.

President Business paused the video, then directed Bad Cop's attention to the prisoner. "You see the look on his face? That's called the 'you-look-ridiculous-and-I'm-going-to-laugh-my-head-off-at-you' look."

Bad Cop said nothing, though his scowl hardened.

Business pushed 'play' on the remote. Exactly as he had predicted, the man fell to the ground laughing. Good Cop stood rigid for a moment, then, with a deep sigh, hung his head. Bad Cop quickly switched over. He grabbed the upturned chair and held it high over the criminal, but that only added to the man's hysterics.

For a few moments, Good Cop and Bad Cop switched back and forth, one trying to hit the guy while the other insisted that he keep his temper under control. It wasn't until the two-faced cop was notified that President Business wanted him to report to his office that Bad Cop threw the chair against the wall and left, ordering his fellow policemen to throw the criminal back into his cell.

When the video shut off, everyone turned their attention to the officer. Though a few were expressionless, the majority looked at him as if they thought he was a complete idiot. Some even had the audacity to smirk at him. Bad Cop's face heated up, and he suddenly felt like heading down to the police station with a few chairs on hand.

The indignant look on Business' face seemed to soften. "You guys can go," he told the Search Team. "You did a great job. Make sure you get your paychecks from Velma Staplebot before you leave."

Indiana Jones nodded. "Thank you, President Business."

He walked past Bad Cop, his fellow explorers following suit. A few purposely bumped against the cop, shooting him sly smiles as they did so. Bad Cop growled between clenched teeth. It was all he could do to keep from lashing out.

_Easy, buddy.__ Just ignore them._

When the Super-Secret Search Team was gone, Business looked at Bad Cop and folded his hands on his desk. "Bad Cop, I know that you're frustrated that interrogations haven't been going well lately. If you want things back the way they were, you need to let me help you. I know just what to do. And..." He hesitated, cringing. "...And it _was_ my fault that you had to draw on a new face, anyway..."

Bad Cop kept still, unsure how to respond to that.

Suddenly, Business' unibrow lifted. "Why am I even talking to you? Good Cop's the one I should be asking."

_Switch._

Good Cop stood at attention as Business left his desk and walked down the stairs. The president stopped two bricks in front of him.

"Good Cop, I know what happened to you was all my fault, and I'm really, really sorry." He glanced at the ground, shame briefly shadowing his face. "But I want to make things right. If you let me, I can recreate your original facial design. What do you say?"

Good Cop fidgeted a little bit. "Well...I, um..."

He didn't know what to say. On one hand, he was terrified of the methods Business would use to carry out the plan. The Po'lish Remover of Na'il burned horribly, worse than anything else he'd ever felt. He would do almost anything to steer clear from it.

On the other hand, he was touched that Business actually wanted to do something kind for him. That was a huge step from the way he had treated him before, and the cop felt he should honor Business' change of heart by allowing him to help him.

Additionally, if he got past the pain, Bad Cop could run interrogations the way he liked again. Though interrogations were but a small part of the job, failure in that area ultimately affected other parts, one reason being that his other side's anger would spill over into those areas.

"It would be nice to have my original face again," Good Cop finally admitted, shrugging. "It's just..."

Business nodded encouragingly. "Go on..."

"It's just..." He rocked back and forth on his heels. "I...I'm...It wouldn't cause you any trouble, would it, sir?"

"It's no trouble at all! I'd be happy to do it!"

"Well..." The genuine eagerness in Business' tone barely managed to win over his feelings of apprehension. Reluctantly, he gave the president a small smile. "Okay."

Business' countenance brightened as he clasped his hands together. "Wonderful! Let's get started! I'll have my robots strap you in that chair over there and we can begin!"

Good Cop blinked, then turned his attention to the odd structure at the window. That thing was a chair?

_I know chairs. That's not a chair._


	2. Chapter 2

Only moments later was the policeman in the "chair", securely strapped down by his arms, legs, and stomach. Good Cop kept a smile all the way, though he hated being restrained as such. After posting an old picture of Good Cop above the officer's head, President Business disappeared to who-knows-where to get the last instruments he needed.

Good Cop softly sung "Everything Is Awesome!" while he waited, trying to drive away the apprehension gnawing at his gut. He was about to sing the chorus for the second time when -

_Stop that._

"What?"

_Your singing. I hear that song everyday, I'd like a break from it._

"Oh, okay, buddy! Sorry if I annoyed you."

When Bad Cop said nothing else, Good Cop turned his attention to his surroundings. He let his eyes wander around the room, taking in all the sights. Though looking at all the relics from a safe distance was somewhat fascinating, it did nothing to help his stomach stop churning.

"Are you nervous?" he finally asked his Bad side.

Bad Cop didn't reply right away. _I don't think this is a good idea._

Meaning yes, he was nervous.

_I'm only worried that something is going to go wrong._

"Me too," Good Cop confessed, shaking his head. "But I'm willing to take the risk if it means we can do our job better. Besides, it's really nice that President Business wants to help us out."

_I...suppose so._

A familiar thudding noise sounded from outside the office. When the heavy doors swung open, Good Cop almost gulped. President Business stood in the doorframe, sporting his gigantic boots.

With just a couple strides, Business made it over to the trapped police officer.

"Why are you wearing those, sir?" Good Cop asked, forcing back a shiver.

"So I can get a better artistic angle," Business replied casually, peering through his claw hands. He took a half-step closer, then lowered his height. "Perfect!"

Good Cop glanced at the robots gathering beside Business. One guarded the nail polish remover and Q-Tip, another held a small hand mirror, and the last six divided the job of holding the three pens amongst themselves.

"The stuff Bad Cop used to draw your face is permanent," Business explained, bending over to prod Good Cop's markered face. "But I think I can use the Po'lish Remover of Na'il to get it off. Then I can apply the new stuff."

_Switch._

Bad Cop frowned skeptically. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Positive. Now, Bad Cop, not that I don't absolutely love it when you switch in and all, but I'm going to need you to stay undercover until I'm finished. That will probably take..." Business tapped his chin thoughtfully. "...An hour or so."

"What?!"

"When Good Cop's face has been successfully replicated," he continued, ignoring Bad Cop's outburst, "you can go on with your regular patrols and interrogations."

"But what about the city?" the policeman asked, sounding more than a little distressed. "What if there's crime? I need to be there!"

"Yes, because you're the only cop in the entire police force in the whole wide world," Business responded with a roll of his eyes. "I'm pretty sure the city can handle an hour without you."

The officer scowled at that.

Business took hold of the Q-Tip before looking at Bad Cop again. "Okay, everything's ready. Let me see Good Cop now."

Bad Cop took a deep breath.

_Switch._

Good Cop grimaced at the Q-Tip in President Business' claw hands.

"Are you ready, Good Cop?" Business gave him a reassuring half-smile.

Shaking off some of his anxiety with a grin, he replied, "Yes, sir!"

The president held the Q-Tip above the policeman's head. "Hold absolutely still."

Good Cop nodded, then shut his eyes. He heard his heart thumping in his ears.

As swiftly as he could, President Business wiped away Good Cop's scribbled face. It felt like fire, and he started losing consciousness, but the cop refused to panic. He reminded himself again and again that it would be over soon; that he would be alright.

Before he could black out, Good Cop felt a chilly splash of ink on his face, beginning at where his mouth should have been. In between short pauses came more and more cool dabs, soothing away the flaring pain.

About a half-hour later, Good Cop sensed that his mouth had been completed. A little while after that, vision returned to his left side, albeit it was a bit blurry. Soon he could see out of his new right eye.

"Keep holding still," the president advised, breaking the long silence. "I still have to draw on your glasses."

Slowly and carefully, Business slid the fine tip of the black pen from Good Cop's temple to his right eye, then circled it. He did the same with his left eye, drew an arc between the two, then brought the pen from the rim to his left temple.

President Business lifted the pen and scrutinized the cop's face. After a moment, he smiled proudly. "Done!" Reaching down, he traded the pen for the mirror a robot was holding and handed it to Good Cop.

"Tell me what you think." He unlocked the cop's right arm.

Good Cop lifted the mirror to his face - and his jaw dropped. In the reflection was an exact replica of his original face. Everything, from the frames of his glasses to the slanting of his teeth, looked just like they did before. It was as if his face had never been erased at all.

_That's...impressive._

The police officer could hardly believe what he was seeing. He tried lifting his unoccupied claw hand to touch his face, wanting to make sure it was real. It was then that he realized his other arm was still restrained, and that President Business was waiting for an answer.

Good Cop's trademark smile stretched from ear to ear. "Sir, you...you did great! I look exactly like I did before!"

Business beamed.

"Sir, thank you so much! You did a fantastic job!"

"Oh, no problem, it was my - " He paused, and then his brow furrowed. "Wait a minute." Leaning forward a tiny bit, his eyes shifted back and forth between the cop and the picture above his head.

Good Cop frowned a little. "What is it, sir?"

Business' eyes snapped wide open. "Oh, no..."

"What, sir?"

Business smacked a claw hand to his forehead and groaned. "I made a mistake."

"Huh?" Good Cop said, narrowing an eye.

"Your face...it's off-centered."

The cop glanced at the mirror again. Unable to supress a second smile at his reflection, he said, "Looks just fine to me!"

"No, it's not!" Business snatched the mirror and shoved it in his face. "Take a closer look."

Good Cop squinted his eyes and looked harder. Actually, his face _was_ a little off-centered. But just barely.

Business pursed his lips. "I'll have to start all over again."

Good Cop's stomach dropped.

_Wha - no! No! We need to get back to protecting the city! We don't need to waste any more time just sitting here!_

Good Cop had to agree; it wouldn't be a good idea to stay there much longer. He was content with his newly-drawn face, and both he and his Bad side should probably be getting back to work.

Meeting Business' eyes, Good Cop said, "No, sir, it's fine."

"Sure, it might be _fine_," he made quotations with his claw hands, "but if it's going to do you any good, it has to be _perfect._" He grabbed the Q-Tip from the bottle of nail polish.

Before Good Cop could protest any further, his mouth was painfully erased, along with the rest of his face.

_Great. Can it get any worse than this?_

Apparently so.

The second try, Good Cop's eyes were different sizes. Business promptly started over. Then the frame of the cop's glasses were too thick. Then his mouth was too small. Then the artist accidentally slipped, resulting in a crooked line stretching from the cop's forehead to his left cheek.

Hour after hour passed, and President Business was never satisfied with his work. But all of his mistakes (except the line) were hardly noticeable, and he was the only one who pointed them out.

Then, for the seventh time that day, Business dropped his pen and surveyed the officer's face with a calculative yet weary eye.

Though he had pressed upon himself no vigorous physical activity, Good Cop felt exhausted. He was stiff from being frozen in place for so long, and his face burned so bad that he thought one more wipe of the Q-Tip would end him for good.

Just when Good Cop dared to think he was finally satisfied, Business let out a loud, raspy groan. "Your teeth still aren't right!"

The cop's heart sank. "H-How?"

"They're crooked!"

Good Cop wriggled in his bonds. "I can live with crooked teeth! Honest!"

"No, you can't!" the president snapped, snatching up the Q-Tip in an almost psychotic fashion. "I have to do this right!"

"Wait!" Good Cop struggled to escape, though he knew the attempt was futile. "I, uh, I'm..." His mind raced through several options and grabbed onto a reasonable excuse. "I'm starving! A-And you must be starving! Couldn't we take a break? And try again later?"

Business stopped, some of the frustration on his face melting into a look of contemplation as he lifted one side of his unibrow. "Hmm...I don't know..."

Good Cop shifted, trying to avoid touching the Q-Tip that hung dangerously close over his wide eyes. "M-Maybe you can't get my face right because you're hungry. No one can work well on an empty stomach."

_Some of us can._

"Well..."

Good Cop shut his eyes and turned away, knowing that the Q-Tip could slide across his face at any second. But when the fiery sensation failed to press against his cheeks, he pried open one eye. Business was staring off into space, still considering the suggestion.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the president nodded. "Fine. We'll take a quick break."

Deep relief swept through the policeman, relaxing his tightly-clenched muscles. Business lowered the Q-Tip into the bottle of nail polish remover, then minimized his stilt boots.

"Robots, release him."

The robot minions unlocked Good Cop's cuffs, consequently making him fall flat on his face. He was still for a moment, taking time to recover from the blow and to relish his sweet freedom.

By the time Good Cop pushed himself up, President Business was already calling his assistant.

"Velma, tell the cafeteria bots to send up two glasses of water, two pizzas, and..." Business looked at Good Cop. "Do you want a croissant or a doughnut?"

"Uh, croissant, please..."

"And two croissants," he relayed into the intercom. "And make it quick. Please."

The food arrived in about fifteen seconds. Business sat at his desk, Good Cop positioned at the left side of it. During the course of the meal, Business made conversation, generally about the Octan Corporation and the like. Good Cop tried to contribute to the mostly one-sided discussion, but found it hard to do so when he realized that Business glared at his teeth whenever he said anything.

Good Cop eventually gave up and settled for listening quietly as Business continued. Occasionally, he sneaked a glance at his reflection in the shiny desktop, trying to see what was so bad about his teeth. He didn't see how they were crooked in any way.

Just as Good Cop finished off the last of his croissant, a beeping noise came from the president's office phone. "President Business, we have a problem."

Business cocked his unibrow as he pressed a button. "With what?"

"Your new employees are having difficulty choosing the new furniture for the board room. They can't agree and have asked for your advice."

"New furniture?!" he cried, straightening up. "I told them to use the old stuff!"

"They must have misheard you, sir."

Business threw his head back against the chair and groaned dramatically. When he was finished, he said, "Fine, I'll go take a look. Tell them I'll be there in ten seconds."

"Yes, sir."

Removing his hand from the phone, the president stood up. He made his way down the steps, muttering to himself. "If you want something done right, you've gotta do it yourself."

Just before he exited, Business turned around to give the cop a threatening look. "Stay here. I'll be right back." He paused. "Robots, come with me."

The robots obeyed without question, the doors banging shut behind them. The resounding slam lifted a huge weight off the cop's shoulders. He leaned back against his seat, inhaling deeply. The intake of oxygen was like a blast of cool tranquility, kicking out the sickening pressure he had felt all day.

_We have to get out of here!_

And then the stress came tumbling back.

Good Cop sighed. "I know. But..."

_What?_

"We can't just leave President Business. He's trying so hard to help us."

_If I'm restrained on that miserable excuse for a chair any longer, I'm going to lose my mind!_

"But I'd feel so bad if we just left."

_You'll get over it!_ Bad Cop stopped for a moment. _Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here and let your face burn off._

A sudden rush of hysteria overpowered Good Cop's hesitation. He pushed himself back from the desk so fast that he almost toppled over his chair. "Okay, let's go!"

_Switch._

Delivering a powerful side-kick to the chair, Bad Cop leapt down the red steps and ran to the exit.

_Um..._

"What?" he groaned, slowing a little.

_Can I leave a thank-you note first?_

"No!"

Bad Cop sped up again, eyes locked onto the gateway of his freedom. Just when he could touch the doors -

_Wait!_

"What now?!" he hissed, skidding to a stop.

_What if President Business set up those robots to guard the door? What if they see us and report to him that we're trying to leave?_

Bad Cop's jaw dropped. That was a very probable possibility and he hadn't even thought of it. Cautiously, the cop cracked the door open a tiny bit and peered through. Sure enough, the eight robots were standing guard outside.

_I was hoping I was wrong..._

Clenching his teeth together, Bad Cop turned his back to the door and leaned against it. Now how were they supposed to get out of there?

_Well...what about the air ducts?_

Bad Cop looked around the room, then noticed an air vent on the left wall, about fifteen bricks off the ground. With his analytical eyes, he assumed it to be big enough for him to squeeze through.

He headed straight for it. "Good idea."

_How are we going to get up that high?_

"Oh, I've got an idea for that," he muttered, popping his claw hands.

A few seconds later, Bad Cop had forcibly booted the "miserable excuse for a chair" below the air vent and had climbed on top of it. Now able to reach the grate, he pried it open and forced himself inside. Making sure to reposition the grate back in place, he crawled through the cold airway. After about a length of twenty bricks, the airway widened considerably, allowing him to stand up. The first thing he met was a ladder built into the side of another airway. Without a second thought, he descended.

He left the ladder and sprinted down another tunnel, then came to a split path. Behind his aviator shades he scanned each option. Both looked identical.

Hmm... Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all...

_I can help!_

"How?"

_Well, remember the first day on the job, when I accidentally locked the keys inside our office?_

Bad Cop snorted. "That was incredibly stupid. Of course I remember."

_Do you remember that I had to crawl through the vents to get inside because you refused to get help?_

"Vaguely."

_If you let me, I think I can remember how to navigate ourselves out of here._

Bad Cop's frown hardened with uncertainty. He felt that he knew better about these kinds of predicaments that required careful deduction and memorization. On the other hand, his Good side probably knew more about the ventilation system than he did.

After a long moment of thought, Bad Cop sighed. "Fine."

_Switch._

Good Cop analyzed the pathways, then chose right. "This way, I think."

_"You think"?_

"Yep!"

_...I'm not going to be very happy if you get ourselves lost._

Keeping that in mind, Good Cop traveled onward at a steady yet cautious run. Fortunately, he had picked up a few things from the last time he was in the vents, and he found that he knew the air ducts much better than he thought he did.

A little while later, Good Cop spotted a black grate with a nasty dent in the middle. He grinned as he dashed towards it. "This one!"

_Why that one?_

"You punched it open to get into our office, remember?"

_Have you forgotten that this is the NEW Octan Tower? I doubt that President Business would have bothered to replicate our old office._

The airway narrowed, so Good Cop knelt down and crawled on. "Well then, why would there be a dent in the grate?"

_I...don't know. But that doesn't mean it leads to our old office._

Good Cop gripped the grate and peered through. Unfortunately, the slots were too thin for him to see anything clearly. "Let's just try it anyways," he decided a moment later, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm really sure it's our office. Or, at least, where it should be."

_But your reasoning based on a dented grate is dangerously flawed._

Despite Bad Cop's warnings, Good Cop proceeded to give the grate a rough jiggle. With just a few shakes, it popped open, and he eagerly slid out.

The police officer failed to realize that the vent was about fifteen bricks off the ground, however.

Good Cop fell onto his back, the air knocked out of his lungs on impact. For a moment, all he could do was gasp for breath.

He had just caught it when his Bad side spoke again.

_We're not in our office._

His stomach jumped, but only a little. Okay, so they weren't in their office. But they were out of President Business' office, henceforth another step closer to getting back to the station.

Looking to his right, Good Cop saw a long table with mismatched chairs alongside it. Close to the furniture were a bunch of people - the new employees, to be precise - that were staring at him like he was a two-headed cat.

He was just about to explain when he saw President Business standing at the end of the table.


	3. Chapter 3

Good Cop gulped. "Whoopsie..."

_I'm not very happy with you at the moment._

Only a split second later did Business' eyes narrow with sheer irritation. "Good Cop, what are you doing here?"

Face broiling, the cop rolled over onto his stomach. "Oh, I was, um..."

"I thought I told you to stay in my office!"

On his feet, Good Cop smiled weakly. "Yes, you did."

"Then what are you doing here?" the president demanded, his glare only intensifying.

The police officer twiddled his claw hands, the discomfort he felt only rising to a whole new level. "I-I, I, um..."

_Switch._

Bad Cop stepped swiftly towards the exit. "I have to get back to the station! I've got work to do!"

With that, the cop kicked the door open and ran out into the hall. Fearing that Business could order someone to stop the elevator, he sprinted instead for the stairway. Tearing through the entryway, he hurried down thirty levels before sliding the railing the rest of the way to the ground floor.

Adrenaline pulsed through him as he made a mad dash for the main lobby, passing various people and robots along the way. With a turn of a corner, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed.

_Watch out!_

Before he could stop himself, Bad Cop crashed. The impact was so sudden that, when he fell over, his face swiveled over to Good Cop's. For a moment, the officer stared up at the ceiling as the world spun around him. Shaking off the dizziness as best he could, he sat up. His eyes grew large with concern when he beheld the person in front of him.

"Emmet?"

The construction worker was sprawled on the floor, a big white box laying close to his rolling hard hat. He took a moment to rub his forehead, then looked up. A friendly smile replaced the shadow of a grimace on his face. "Hey, Good Cop!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that!" The police officer stood and helped Emmet to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

Emmet picked up his hard hat and pulled it over his head. "Just thought I'd pay a visit and see how the 'move-in' is working out." Lifting up the box, he added, "And I brought white-chocolate chip cookies! I got them from the new bakery this morning." He blinked, and then his expression grew brighter. "Oh. My. G-O-S-H! Your face! It looks brand new! When did that happen?"

"I'll tell you, but first I need your help!"

"With what?"

"GOOD COP! BAD COP! Where are you?"

The police officer felt a chill run up his back. Both he and Emmet peeked around the wall to see a very irritated-looking President Business glancing to and fro.

"Oh, hey, President Business!" Emmet called out, getting the man's attention. "Did you lose Good Cop? He's right over here!"

Good Cop slapped a claw hand to his forehead and sighed.

Bad Cop snarled in the back of his head. _If __we're forced to be President Business' drawing pad for another second, I will personally track down the Special and whack him with a chair!_

"You're not helping," Good Cop chided quietly, slumping a little.

"THERE you are!" the president declared, striding towards the two LEGOs. Well, more so the police officer. He waved his arm in an authoritative fashion. "Get back to my office ASAP! We're not done yet!"

Good Cop trembled as he stepped back. "Please, President Business, I can't take it anymore! I need to get back to work!"

Business shook his claw hand at him sternly, suddenly rising up on his stilt boots. "You're not ready to work until I fix your face perfectly!"

Good Cop scrambled for the glass doors as Business stomped towards him. Business, having longer legs than the cop, stepped over and in front of him, cutting him off from the exit. The police officer stumbled backwards as the president tried to grab him, then ran in Emmet's direction. Business followed, lowering and heightening himself as he attempted to snatch up the cop.

They essentially ran around in circles to the doors and back to Emmet.

"Whoa, guys, what's happening?" The construction worker's head spun as he tried to keep up with their movements.

Business roared as Good Cop evaded another grab. "I'm trying to redraw his face, but I can't get it right!" He yanked back a couch the cop had taken cover behind. "Every time I do it, I mess something up!"

"But there's nothing wrong!" Good Cop insisted, running behind a potted plant. "You're getting all worked up over nothing!"

He somersaulted out from behind the plant just as Business grabbed at him. He darted again for the front doors, tripping a little as he did so. Right when he could reach the door handle, a claw hand gripped viciously onto his shoulder.

"GOT YOU!" Business cried, lifting the cop off the ground.

Good Cop struggled to get away, but to no avail. He had forgotten how strong Business was. "Sir, please let me go!"

With one claw hand, Business carried Good Cop towards the elevator, expression tightly clenched with deep frustration. "You're not leaving until I finish my job!"

Suddenly, Emmet threw himself between the president and the elevator. "YOU GUYS! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!"

Business stopped dead in his tracks, his brow arched high. Good Cop himself was shocked at easy-going Emmet's harsh tone of voice.

"Okay, okay, let's just talk this out for a moment," Emmet said calmly, motioning with his claw hands. "Think we can do that?"

Neither Good Cop nor Business said anything.

"Okay, good." Emmet looked directly at Business. "First off: you redrew his face?"

"Well, I, I guess I..." The president glanced uneasily back and forth at the construction worker and at the prisoner in his grasp. Sighing, he lowered his head into his free hand. "Yes, I did. It looks awful, doesn't it?"

"Awful? Are you kidding me?" Emmet laughed. "It looks exactly like his original face!"

Business looked up. "But his teeth are crooked. See?"

Emmet surveyed Good Cop, who forced a smile, before shrugging. "I can hardly even tell. You did a great job! Don't be so hard on yourself!"

Business still looked unsure.

A girl walked up to them. "Yeah, it's fantastic. Looks just like he used to."

Good Cop suddenly noticed that everyone in the lobby was staring at them. They did create quite a scene.

He chuckled uncomfortably as he waved at the spectators. "Hi, everybody!"

More people came up, voicing the same thing the girl did.

"Yeah man, it's awesome!"

"Wow, you're quite the artist!"

"That's so cool you can do that!"

Business looked from person to person, astonishment replacing the doubt on his face. "Really?"

The crowd responded with shouts of "yeah!" and the like.

Business peered again at Good Cop's face, relaxing his brow as he did so. "You know what...I guess I did overreact a little."

_"A little"?_

"It _is_ quite an improvement, if I do say so myself." Business lessened the height of his boots, setting the cop on the ground as he did so. He hung his head a little. "Good Cop, I'm sorry. I guess I let my perfectionism get out of hand...again."

"No worries, sir," the cop said with a polite grin. "I know you were just trying to help."

Business smiled in return, then looked around at his employees. "Alright, everyone! Get back to work! Nothing more to see here!"

After they had returned to their normal duties, Business sent a grateful smile to the construction worker. "Emmet Brickowski, once again, I owe you my gratitude. Thank you."

"Yes, thank you, buddy!" Good Cop exclaimed.

"Hey, no problem, guys!" Emmet replied. "Always happy to help!"

_Okay. Maybe I won't track him down and smack him with a chair._

Just then, Good Cop's walkie-talkie buzzed. Grabbing it, he lifted it to his ear. "Yes?"

"Sir, we've got a robbery on Gold Stud Avenue. We need backup."

_Switch._

Bad Cop nodded. "I'll be right there." Reattaching the walkie-talkie to his belt, he turned to Business. "The city needs me. I have to go."

The president rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright, you drama queen. Go on ahead. I won't stop you."

_Switch._

"Thank you again, sir!" the police officer cried, running towards the front doors.

"It was my pleasure, Good Cop!" the president called back.

Seconds later, Good Cop was throwing open the door to his car. After settling himself into his seat, the cop cast a quick glance to the rear-view mirror. He smiled once more, then started the engine. "Ready to catch more criminals?"

_Switch._

Bad Cop smirked. "I'd like to see those turkeys try to laugh at us again!" He revved the engine of his car and tightly gripped the steering wheel. "Let's go get 'em!"

_Yay!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, that was fun to write. :) Good Cop/Bad Cop is awesome! I hope we see more of him in the sequel.

Anyway, thanks for reading this! Hope you enjoyed it!

I know this is a bit late, but Merry Christmas! I'm so glad Christ was born! He gives life to all who believe in Him.


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